


On The House (Discreetly)

by johlyfams



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Barista Lee Taeyong, Comfort fic, Fluff, Hot Chocolate as a Plot Point, M/M, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johlyfams/pseuds/johlyfams
Summary: Eight minutes before his shift is over, Kim Doyoung has a fateful encounter at the café register.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Kim Jungwoo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 60





	On The House (Discreetly)

**Author's Note:**

> i've been depressed and on the brink of a complete mental breakdown for the past couple of days (thank u online university) so i really just needed to write something comforting and nice. i hope you like it!

3:48.

Exactly twelve minutes until the end of his shift.

His arms are covered wrist to elbow in dried sugar and milk from hours behind the espresso bar. His apron is soaked through and plagued with a damp coolness that hugs his stomach and the top of his jeans like some malicious cousin of a hot water bottle. His pointer finger is burned from where he’d been too hasty in pulling a croissant out of the warming oven. His knees ache from standing at the counter in old, stained vans for hours.

But he only has twelve minutes left.

Taeyong had abandoned him behind the bar quite some time ago, mumbling some vague excuse about needing to use the bathroom. It had been eight minutes since then, and Doyoung can only assume that, while he _had_ perhaps used the bathroom at one point in his absence, he was long finished and probably texting his boyfriend in the prep kitchen.

_Twelve minutes. Twelve minutes. Twelve minutes. Twelve minutes._

The café is quite packed, but the customers' orders are, for the most part, filled, save for a few pour-overs that he has brewing next to him. He watches through the front windows with bated breath, silently willing away any more customers, at least until Taeyong decides to grace the counter with his presence once again. As much as he would like to believe he is, Doyoung is not a lucky man.

A group of three pass by the storefront. At first, they look as though they’re going to walk right by, but the tallest of the three lags behind for a fraction of a second, glancing at the engraved sign on the door. Despite Doyoung’s heated gaze and the pure chagrin oozing from his pores, Tall Traitor calls ahead to the two others of the group, and they all screech to a halt, discuss for a few moments, and shuffle into the café. Doyoung tries to restrain a sigh as he hands out the two pour-overs.

_Eight minutes. Eight minutes. Eight minutes. Eight minutes._

The three young men are smiling as they approach the front counter. _T_ _hey dare approach with such cheery attitudes?_ Doyoung wipes his hands on his apron and assumes position at the register, painting on a smile. _Where the hell is Taeyong._

“What can I get started for you guys?” He asks, and though he’s going for “cheery” his voice comes out much more “barista that’s been sweating behind an espresso machine for way too goddamn long.”

“Hi,” the Tall Traitor says, a little distractedly, offering a greeting for all three of them as they gaze up at the menu. Doyoung can feel his left foot tapping, and it’s starting to get really hard to keep this smile on. He leans heavily on the counter, subtly trying to lift some of the tension off of his knees and back. The three are unfazed and oblivious to his plight, still gazing with blank looks at the chalkboard above his head. Doyoung uses a cough as an excuse to cover his mouth as he exhaustedly drops his smile and chews his bottom lip, glancing at the clock on the register screen. _Five minutes._

He perks up again at the “all right” from the group’s spokesperson.

“I think I’ll get an iced americano with an extra shot and hazelnut,” he continues. Doyoung wants to roll his eyes. _All of that pointless deliberation, and for what,_ he thinks. He does not roll his eyes; he punches in the order, assigns it the man’s name, Johnny, and rings him up. He pays, smiles at Doyoung, and shuffles down to the end of the bar, still glancing over at his friends still at the order counter. The second steps up, orders the exact same thing that also took a disproportionate amount of time to decide on, but with amaretto syrup, gives the name “Jaehyun,” pays, and strides over to meet his friend. The two are quickly absorbed in conversation, and Doyoung is absorbed in the fact that he only has _three minutes left_.

“Hello.” The last of the group steps up and offers Doyoung a greeting. He’s sweet-looking, tall, but more willowy than intimidating. He’s cute. Doyoung lets his smile soften into something a little less contrived, something gentler and more genuine. He chastises his stupid simple fish brain.

“Hi there. What can I get started for you?”

The boy leans over the counter, a little closer, and his voice drops to a nearly imperceptible degree.

“Can I please have a hot chocolate?” Doyoung cocks his head at the strange shift in tone, but it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened today, so he punches in the order as normal and is about to repeat it back to him when the boy clears his throat loudly, cutting him off, then whispers again.

“When you hand it out, can you, like, say it’s something else? An americano or black coffee or something cool?” Doyoung glances down the bar at the boy’s friends, still chatting animatedly. Both of them had ordered pretty strong drinks. The boy was embarrassed, he realizes. Doyoung wants to laugh, but he finds himself unable to when he looks back at the boy, with his beautiful, desperately imploring eyes. _God_ , he really is stunning.

 _Fuck it, thirst hours it is_ Doyoung thinks as he sends the order through, punching in his employee discount so that it doesn’t charge the boy. He looks back up at the young man, who already has his wallet in hand.

“Don’t worry about it. On the house. What’s your name?” The boy starts to politely sputter, but Doyoung waves him off, asking again for his name.

“It’s Jungwoo.” He eventually mumbles, reluctantly stuffing his wallet into his back pocket.

“Well Jungwoo, I’ll have your cappuccino with two extra shots out as soon as I can.” Doyoung announces, sending what he hopes is a subtle wink to the boy. He flushes bright red and bows lightly, stuttering a thank you and meeting his two other friends, who now are looking up at Doyoung and Jungwoo. Jungwoo seems pleased that his friends had heard the order; inwardly, Doyoung preens at having completed his most certainly real and possible-to-achieve mission and punches a metaphorical fist in the air like this is the goddamn _Breakfast Club_.

Before he moves to the bar, he looks down at the register clock to see that his shift had ended over a minute and a half ago. He wants to go get Taeyong’s skinny ass and put him back behind the counter where he was supposed to be, but one more glance over at Jungwoo, who smiles at him behind the bar, and he realizes that _goddammit he’s going to have to make these drinks isn’t he._

He finishes the two iced americanos easily, and hands them out with a call of Johnny and Jaehyun’s names and a “thank you for coming.” He takes a little longer than necessary on the hot chocolate, setting the cup on the espresso grate and starting four shots, but letting them pour just over the cup and into the catch-shelf below. Not to be homosexual, but he kind of enjoys the little glances and smiles Jungwoo keeps sending him in between conversation with his friends, so he wants to indulge for a little while longer. He steams the milk and pumps the chocolate into the bottom of the cup, topping off the drink with a little dollop of whipped cream.

He hands out Jungwoo’s drink with an inconspicuous “here’s your cappuccino, sorry for the wait.”

Jungwoo bows and takes the drink in both hands. He sips from the cup slowly and a smile blooms across his pretty, plush lips.

“Tastes good. Thank you, Doyoung-ssi.” Doyoung rarely wears his name tag, he usually can’t be fucked, but today he wants to drop at his manager’s feet and worship her for berating him to pin it to his apron. His name sounds so much _better_ coming from Jungwoo’s mouth.

“Have a nice evening.” He directs it at all three of them, but he _thinks_ it at Jungwoo especially. They all turn and walk out the front door, taking with them the last remaining shred of Doyoung’s energy. A cute customer is merely a temporary power-up, just enough to not body-slam a rude customer, but not enough to sustain the energy required to not stand like a decrepit wretch. He slumps over the hand-out plane and unties his apron, then drags his feet over to the prep kitchen and sticks his head through the flimsy double-doors.

“Taeyong you asshole.” He deadpans at the boy who’s leaning against the wall, phone in hand. He barely even glances up at the peeved barista, eyes still glued to his screen.

“What? I was changing the playlist.” His tone is flippant, but Doyoung can sense his teasing lilt a mile away. He scowls and huffs.

“For eleven and a half minutes?”

“Did you die?” _This bitch._

“No, but I’ve been betrayed. I’ve lost who I thought was my dearest friend. My shift’s over, tell Mark to fuck off while you _actually do your job_.” Doyoung’s halfway out of the kitchen when he finishes his sentence, but he doesn’t miss Taeyong’s whines and complaints. He clocks out and tracks around the counter to the café, but is stopped before he can make it out the door.

Jungwoo’s standing in front of him, hot chocolate in one hand, scribbled-on napkin in his other. Before Doyoung can ask him what he’s doing back at the café, he leans forward and kisses him on the cheek, sweet and short. When Jungwoo pulls back, Doyoung can feel his face light up like a furnace. His eyes sting with how quickly all of the blood rushes to his head.

Jungwoo isn’t faring much better, the tips of his ears nearly purple with how hard he’s blushing.

“Uh.” _Ever the eloquent one, huh Doyoung?_

“Sorry, it’s just. I wanted to say thank you so much for earlier, with the hot chocolate thing. That was so sweet of you and you didn’t make it weird and you totally didn’t have to do it so I really appreciate it. I might have been misreading signals but I really hope I wasn’t because you’re really handsome so I wanted to give you my number and you don’t have to take it but—“

“Jungwoo.”

The boy huffs out a short breath, embarrassed, and smiles crookedly. Doyoung’s heart melts into a gross little puddle.

“You didn’t misread any signals, and I was happy to do it. Can I take you up on that number offer?” On God, he genuinely does try to sound nonchalant and cool, but his blush and the fact that he stutters twice on the word "take" really do not come through for his purposes.

Jungwoo’s smile brightens until it crinkles the corners of his eyes, and Doyoung is overcome with the urge to squish his cheeks, but he restrains himself, instead gesturing to the napkin Jungwoo has clutched in his fist. He surrenders it, and it’s only a little sweaty when Doyoung folds it and puts it in his pocket.

“Well, I just told Johnny and Jaehyun that I left my phone in here, they’ll probably be worried if I take too long.”

Jungwoo’s flush has faded a little bit, but he’s still got that toothy smile on his mouth. He leans close again, brushes his lips against Doyoung’s cheek, and whispers.

“Please text me.”

Doyoung, a little breathlessly, hums his affirmation and Jungwoo leans back, satisfied. He’s still smiling when he bids a goodbye and leaves the café. Once outside, he turns to wave at Doyoung through the window. Stunned and a little dopey, he waves back.

Even after he’s out of sight, Doyoung can’t help but stand and process for a few moments, rooted to the floor by the weight of the napkin in his pocket. Silently, he sees the events of the past three minutes replay on a screen in his mind, reexperiencing again and again Jungwoo’s soft hair, his pretty hands wrapped around his cup, the breathless rasp of his voice as he rambled, the press of his pillowy lips on his cheek. An old man reading the newspaper at the table next to where Doyoung is standing completely motionless shifts uncomfortably.

“You know,” he hears from behind him. Suddenly jiggled from his gross romantic reverie, he whirls to see Taeyong behind the counter, from whence Doyoung’s sure he’d seen the whole encounter, if the smirk on his mouth is anything to go by.

“That wouldn’t have happened if I were out here working. You really should thank me.”

Doyoung wants to hop over the counter and strangle that stupid smile right off his handsome face, but he’s tired from work, and winded by the fact that the cutest boy in the entire tri-state area wants to go out with him, of all people. Horrifyingly enough, his competitive nature is quelled by the bubble of content that makes itself comfortable in his chest. He'll have to settle for decimating him with half-assed wit.

“Taeyong—“

“Ah, ah. Say no more. You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! <3 my friend and i are baristas, so half of this is just me projecting my frustrations onto big tiddy bunny boy. i sincerely hope you enjoyed it!!!


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